The Outsider Is Not Applicable
by GNess
Summary: The whole Seth/Ryan thing may not just be a myth. Seth's having different feelings towards it all, and isn't quite sure why.


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'The Outsider' Is Not Applicable

It wasn't like he was jealous of him or something. No, that notion was a ridiculous one. One that Seth refused to even allow into his brain. He flipped the page of his comic book and sighed as he closed it up again. Was he jealous of him? 

Recalling the whirlwind that was his life for the last month or so, he realized that he was right the first time. 

Jealously was not the word to use. 

He admired Ryan; he trusted him; he liked him. Maybe there was more? What else could there be, though? 

Ignoring everything he'd ever read on the internet that could explain his confused feelings, he abandoned his comic book and left the house. Once outside by the pool, he stood still for a minute relishing in the sun and praising their gardener's work. 

Wait. Did they even HAVE a gardener? 

Pausing outside the pool house door, Seth made a mental note to ask his mother exactly what went on at this house during the day when he was at school. Something told him perhaps it was his mother who cut the weeds from the flowerbeds and soaked them in water when California had one of their well-known bouts without rain for days. Sadly, though, he had no confirmation on this assumption. 

"Yo," Seth called, glancing around the unkempt room when he entered; he nodded his approval at the mess. If Ryan was going to live here full-time, he might as well make good use of it. He noted that all of Ryan's new clothes were draped over random chairs and a lot of them were laying lifeless across the vast bed. Maybe he hadn't been able to decide what to wear. 

Ryan came out of the bathroom, drying his hair off with a towel. As per his custom, he said in his normal, bland voice, "What's up?" 

To which Seth replied, "Nothing," as usual. Today he added something new to the mundane. "Are you headed off to the salt mines?" 

Ryan laughed, something that was becoming more and more irregular; at least as far as Seth could tell. "Who SAYS that?" 

"I just did," Seth answered in, what he thought was, his snarkiest tone. Ryan continued to dry off his hair (which, as far as Seth could tell, was pretty much as dry as it was going to get); Seth stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered around the perimeters of the room. After he'd examined Ryan's watch, which had been lying on the floor, he ventured, "Want some company on the long trek?" 

"Sure." 

Seth nodded absently, "I'll wait outside, then. Hey, you going out with Marissa afterwards?" 

"No," Ryan replied, half laughing. "Why?" 

"Just wondering if the whole 'will they or won't they' Dawson's Creek saga was gonna be over in time for dinner." When Ryan shot him a perplexed look, Seth continued, "Because if it IS, then I intend to invite you to a…how do they say it…really hopping concert. But if you're busy…" Seth trailed off, giving Ryan his best sarcastic look. 

He threw a deep blue button up shirt over his trademark wife beater. "What concert?" 

"Oh, I don't know," Seth tried to keep his own feelings hidden about this particular concert. Tickets had been murder to get, and though he was amazingly excited about the experience in general, he tried to keep it under wraps, as to not arouse suspicions. He liked to downplay as much as possible. "Rooney, Phantom Planet sans Jason Schwartzman, Incubus…that kind of thing." He examined his fingernails and tried to ignore the look of complete astonishment that was on Ryan's face. 

Before Ryan's open mouth could utter any words, Seth continued, "If you're not interested in THAT, maybe I can get tickets to Bob the Builder live? I heard there's a SWEET rendition of the theme song at the end." 

Rolling his eyes, Ryan took the watch from Seth and slapped it on his wrist. Seth watched, apt with attention, and waited for the verdict. "Sounds cool," he said eventually. "The concert, not Bob the Builder. Though you know how much I love Wendy." 

"Don't we all," Seth sighed. He started walking towards the door and turned back, "So, like I said, is the Creek thing over? I don't have to start calling you Dawson, do I?" 

Ryan shrugged and threw his jacket on; the two of them went outside where Ryan collected his bike and Seth grabbed his skateboard from the front stairs. Before they were out of the driveway, Ryan turned to Seth, a stern look on his face, "If you call me Dawson, I'll beat you up." 

Pretending to be scared, Seth answered snappishly, "Oh, I'm really scared, Mr. Chino. I got the street smarts, too, ya know. You don't frighten me." 

"You sound like an old woman." 

"OH! OH, OH, OH! You did NOT just call me an old woman." He kicked off from the ground and sailed down the driveway, shaking his head. "I can't believe you called me an old woman." 

"Only because you're acting like one," Ryan said defensively, pedaling along beside him. 

"So you gonna hook an old woman up with free lobster?" 

"No, you're allergic to shellfish." 

Seth did a double take, clearly confused. "I am not. I eat it all the time when I'm not poor." 

"Yes, you are, Grandma." 

"Oh, I see what you're doing, you're playing some sort of game. Well, let me tell you---" Seth stopped abruptly which nearly caused Ryan to plow into him; instead he put on the breaks and skidded to a halt. "Hello, Marissa," Seth said suavely to the girl standing in front of them. She was a bit further from her own driveway than they were from theirs which meant that she was standing in the driveway of their neighbor, Mr. Peterson, who was not the nicest man on the block. Though he was married to an ex-playgirl by the name of Candy who was about half his age. 

Marissa, looking and feeling out of place, just nodded; she had her arms crossed against her chest, a bright red purse slung across one arm. 

Seth coughed, "Um, sorry to…ah, didn't mean to almost run you over." 

"No problem," she replied softly. 

Seth leaned over to Ryan and whispered, "Do I look like an old grandma in this shirt?" He plucked at the edge of his Steve-from-Blue's-Clues green striped shirt; Ryan shook his head, hardly looking him in the eye. Seth straightened back up and said airily, "So, Marissa…what are you doing in Old Man Peterson's driveway?" What he wanted to say was, 'Did he get a divorce and are you waiting to be his fifth wife and inherit all his money?' but due to her current money troubles (caused by her dumbass father, as far as Seth was concerned) he decided against it. 

She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and glanced quickly at Ryan before looking back at Seth, "Waiting. For a ride. Luke's supposed to pick me up." 

A blank look crossed Seth's face for a moment before he recovered, "Why aren't you waiting in your regular spot in YOUR driveway?" 

"Because my mother thinks we're broken up," Marissa explained quickly. "And if she sees we're not, she'll never let me break up with him again." 

Ryan was doing his best to ignore the conversation; he was admiring some plants at the edge of the driveway and wondering what kind they were. His ears perked up and, though he didn't look at her, he was listening closely. 

Doing the best he could not to elbow Ryan in the ribs, Seth said nonchalantly. "I see. I see. So you're going to break up with him, again?" 

Marissa did something between a shrug and a shaking of the head which caused Seth to go, "Well, then, we'll just be on our way. Come along, Ry." He tugged on Ryan's jacket sleeve and skateboarded off, down the rest of the street, expecting Ryan to come right behind him. 

Which he did, but not before saying awkwardly, "Well, ah, bye. I gotta…ah..go to work…so…see ya," and then streaking off after Seth. 

At the end of the street, they both saw Luke's huge-ass car turn in; neither of them showed any sign of recognition, however, even when Luke waved obviously out the window. 

Seth noticed the glimmer of bandage on his arm, where he'd previously gotten shot. At the time of the shooting, Seth would have loved to have gone, "WOO! So now if you get shot eight more times you'll be like your homie, Fifty Cent," but had refrained because it seemed to be a dire situation that didn't call for levity. 

Now, however, he said it aloud to Ryan. 

The look on Ryan's face as they neared the pier was one that Seth wouldn't have wanted to be on the receiving end of. 

Getting shot seemed a far better alternative. 

Pretty boys, Seth thought, get all the luck.


End file.
